


to live is to forgive (i beg to differ)

by pumpkinpickles



Series: third time's the charm [2]
Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!, Yu-Gi-Oh! Series
Genre: Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, M/M, Other, Reincarnation, platonic corruptshipping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 18:07:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5711998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pumpkinpickles/pseuds/pumpkinpickles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>forgiving people for hurting you is never easy, but it's a lot harder when the sin to forgive is killing your entire village and melting them in pots of gold to make fancy jewelry.</p><p>(Or: Atem finally apologises after 3000 years, and Akefia wants to tell him to eat shit and fuck off)</p>
            </blockquote>





	to live is to forgive (i beg to differ)

**Author's Note:**

> reincarnation aus fuel my soul

In the first life, he learns anger, hatred, and the sadistic joy that comes with power; feels his veins surge with giddy adrenaline whenever sticky blood drenches his hands. His empty laughter reverberates in the throne room, rattles the very core of every bowed priest, heads rolling in the courtyard fresher than the grapes brought into the kingdom at dawn.

 

In his second, he learns unconditional love, of kindness and the strength it possesses, stronger than hate, stronger than the burning spur of revenge; feels sick to his gut at the blood that drips from his hands. But he turns away from it just because he can, yet knows he does so because he is still nothing but a coward.

 

In his third, he learns of understanding; washes off the blood from his hands, but the heavy stench burns his nostrils and leaves a heavier taste on his tongue, lets it so he does not forget. They were not his sins, but he inherited them and he will bear them, weighing heavy on his shoulders like gold once did.

 

But most of all, he learns to forgive.

 

_(and seeks it too.)_

 

* * *

 

 

Atem clutches hold of Akefia's elbow, ignores the frenzied flashes of the cameras that surround the both of them. Eyes wide, he gasps a phrase that has been lying on the tip of his tongue for years, long overdue for centuries.

 

_“I’m sorry.”_

 

* * *

 

 

“...And what am I supposed to do? Forgive him?” Akefia barks, kicking over a music stand.

 

The clatter of the metal contraption and sheets of paper sent flying into the air earns nothing from Set.

 

“I’m sorry.” Akefia mimics, clamping his hands together and simpering. “I’m sorry, poor little Akefia, pitiful little Akefia.”

 

In a bout of fury, Akefia spins on his heel and slams a fist into the wall, lowly uttering through grinded teeth, “I don’t need his pity.”

 

Something in Set seems to rouse from this sentence, as he calmly stands to collect the fallen music sheets, carefully picking them up to avoid any unnecessary creasing.

 

“I don’t believe his apology was said out of pity.” Set speaks, voice steady.

 

Akefia rolled his eyes.

 

“Oh, of course you’d say that. You’re his majesty’s loyal dog. _You’d_ never bite your master, even if he feeds you shit.” Akefia spits bitingly, splaying his arms wide.

 

The papers in Set’s hands crinkle slightly, but he is quick to smooth them out.

 

“He is no longer a pharaoh, nor am I his priest, Akefia. Same as how you are no longer a lowly thief.” Set pauses, flipping through the sheets deftly to ensure he has collected the full score.

 

“I simply speak from my understanding of him from this life. He is a prideful man, an aspect of his personality I’m afraid we’ll never escape. For him to apologise the moment he laid eyes on you must mean something more.”

 

The unspoken words, “You know that too”, linger in the air.

 

For a moment, the only sound that fills the room is paper shuffling and heavy breathing.

 

Then Akefia groans, crashes on the ground with a loud thump.

 

“So what do I _do_?” He growls, carving half moons into his palm, barely breaking the skin.

 

Setting down the stack of papers, Set strides over, drops to one knee by the violinist.

 

“First of all, stop trying to ruin your hands. We have a performance tonight and I will not have you turn it into a disaster by abandoning me to be alone in the spotlight because your hands are too busy bleeding out to perform.” Prying Akefia's fingers out of their determined fists, Set holds both hands for a moment, running thumbs over palms before letting go.

 

“Next, think it through. Take your time. He’s made you wait long enough as it is, now it's your turn.” Set says cooly. “No matter what your answer is, he will accept it. He has to. Even if it is not an answer he wants to hear.”

 

“You’re not going to tell me to forgive him?” Akefia asks, eyebrows raised high enough to be hidden beneath his untidy fringe.

 

Set stands up, dusts himself off.

 

“I’m not that selfish.” He murmurs, barely audible with his back facing the violinist.

 

_(“I’m sorry, too.”)_


End file.
